Chapter Six: According to the Gundam Pilot

The living space inside the lighthouse was cramped, so Lin Bo carried the rubber training pole outside to find a secluded spot to practice.

The lighthouse was built on a coastal promontory, a triangular strip of land jutting out into the ocean. To the west lay a beach where children often played and scavenged for seafood. To the east, however, were rarely visited sea cliffs, where crashing waves battered jagged, canine-toothed reefs, and the shore was littered with broken sampans brought in by the tide.

Lin Bo walked two miles east until the terrain rose. He stood at the edge of a precipice; looking down, the cliff face was nearly invisible, growing steeper as it descended. The slope angle had long since exceeded 90 degrees, and the base of the mountain, heavily eroded by the sea, had formed a natural cavern.

"(Word of Power) Copper Moon."

He soared into the air, descending slowly along the cliff face until he reached the entrance of the natural grotto, though he did not venture deeper into its pitch-black interior.

Lin Bo found a natural ledge that would not be submerged by the rising tide. Above him, a hundred meters of rock provided shade from the scorching sun. Looking west, he could see the white lighthouse standing on the promontory like a short piece of white chalk.

To reach this spot, an ordinary person would have to risk a fatal fall by climbing down from the cliff top or brave the treacherous reefs by boat, effectively deterring any visitors. He had only seagulls, bats, and schools of fish as neighbors.

He set up the rubber target. Although it was a complimentary item, it was highly practical. The main body of the target was a cylinder that could be fitted with crossbars to resemble a wooden dummy. The outer layer was divided into three sections representing the head, torso, and legs, all of which could rotate smoothly to mimic an opponent's movements.

The merchant had mentioned that this type of rubber pole was originally a training tool for martial artists, pugilists, and warriors. Lin Bo attached two crossbars to the target: a short one for the head to simulate gaze, and a long one for the chest to simulate a weapon.

The simulated combat training began. The target started to rotate, along with the two crossbars representing the gaze and weapon. Lin Bo’s goal was to circle behind the target and plunge his short spear into its neck.

At first, he struggled to find the rhythm and failed repeatedly; either he couldn't evade the dummy's "gaze," or he was forced back by its "weapon."

"Hoo—" After a dozen attempts, Lin Bo, his spell power exhausted, had to pause.

The veins at his temples throbbed, and his mental fatigue led to a racing heartbeat and a slight sense of nausea. At that moment, the Multiverse Network popped up a notification.

[Skill check successful, [True Word Mastery - Flow] base proficiency +1]
[Exquisite coefficient ×1.5 (Slight ingenuity)]
[Health status coefficient ×1.4 (Excellent)]
[Inspiration proficiency +0.5 (I am walking on a brand new path)]
[Final calculation: [True Word Mastery - Flow] proficiency +2.6]

"Practicing until total exhaustion only netted me 2.6 proficiency," Lin Bo frowned deeply.

Unlike the Black Snake Meditation, which only required 50 proficiency points to level up, True Word Mastery likely had a higher rank, as it required a staggering 1,000 points just for the first level-up.

To recover from mental exhaustion naturally, one needed a full night's sleep. Even using the Black Snake Meditation took three hours, meaning that even if he did nothing else all day, he could practice at most eight times, taking over a month to reach level two.

In reality, it would likely take about half a year to accumulate 1,000 proficiency points.

"I have to resort to technology," Lin Bo mused, considering ways to accelerate mental recovery. "The cheapest calming potion costs 10 catastrophe coins per dose, while the instant-effect awakening potion costs over a hundred."

"I can't let others profit from this. I should buy some magical herbs to cultivate and brew my own potions. Ideally, ones that don't harm the body; otherwise, I might end up with a fried brain."

He had originally intended to explore the player development paths of cultivation and medicine.

Medical standards in this era were mediocre. While they had moved past the two-piece set of bloodletting and enemas, many conditions considered routine in later ages remained untreatable. Even more terrifying was the surgery of this era, which lacked any concept of sterilization; operating theaters were no different from slaughterhouses.

Becoming a physician would undoubtedly grant him, an unregistered citizen, immense prestige. The lighthouse keeper was insignificant to Stone Tower Town—old Tim had died and hardly anyone attended his funeral—but a physician would be courted by all.

Besides brewing mental potions to increase practice frequency, he could also look for ways to boost proficiency gains, such as special equipment effects or the current version's limited-time item: [Knowledge Fragments].

Knowledge Fragments were not only key items for increasing skill levels but could also significantly boost base proficiency. The types of fragments dropped varied by dungeon compatibility; the [Mechanical Factory] map primarily dropped technology-type fragments.

The merchant's inventory did not contain Knowledge Fragments for True Name Mages, and Lin Bo did not take the initiative to ask. He didn't think shouting his player profession to everyone was a rational act, especially since he hadn't established true trust with any other players.

Lin Bo sat cross-legged and meditated, only opening his eyes nearly three hours later.

His Black Snake Meditation proficiency had increased by 1.4. Only such a complete meditation session increased proficiency. Thinking about it, practicing True Word Mastery was actually quite helpful for leveling up his meditation technique.

His stomach growled. Lin Bo took out the packed bread, salted fish, and water from his pocket—his daily diet. The bread was dry, the fish was bitter and rank, and the water had a faint, sour odor.

"I'll go eat at the White Snail Tavern tonight," Lin Bo thought while eating. Having accumulated some savings from selling ancient shipwreck coins, he had not only paid off old Tim's debts but also had spare money to improve his living conditions.

For the final practice session of the afternoon, Lin Bo didn't push himself recklessly. Instead, he watched the rotating target and considered his strategy.

On the sea nearby, white gulls were circling to catch fish. They dove gracefully from the air, claws breaking the surface to snatch up the bewildered small fish.

"Birds are my teachers. Human martial arts from my past life lacked aerial combat techniques. To find inspiration, I must borrow from birds and fighter jets," Lin Bo mused. "Are there any techniques suitable for aerial combat by humanoid beings?"

A sudden flash of inspiration struck him.

In reality, there were no humans engaging in aerial combat, but in fantasy works, there were. He had caught a glimpse of something while browsing the merchant’s inventory, though he hadn't paid much attention to it at the time.

[Lighthouse Dweller]: Brother Agil, I want to buy a Mobile Suit combat technique manual.
[Multiverse Network - Merchant Agil]: Wait, what? Are you piloting a Gundam, bro?
[Lighthouse Dweller]: It's for my own personal use.
[Agil]: ? I don't understand, but I am shocked.jpg

Mobile Suits, the famous fantasy icons, possessed many derivative conceptual elements and had a huge following among Multiverse Network players. In the trials of the multiverse, techniques for piloting Mobile Suits had been refined and improved countless times, eventually culminating in a set of unarmed and weapon-based combat skills specifically for humanoid war machines in air, water, and space combat.

Mecha combat thus became a monument in the path of martial arts across the heavens.

To Lin Bo, his body was indeed just a mecha. And wasn't his mind a Gundam pilot?

Mecha combat was an important branch of the martial arts system, with many relevant skill books available. However, Lin Bo only bought the documentation to study and practice on his own. After all, true mecha combat was more like driving; the pilot pulled control levers or used advanced neural links, with the essence lying in the coordination between man and machine.

What he needed were the moves and concepts used in mecha combat—the "form," not the "spirit."

"Essentials of Frost-Sky Style Mecha Combat Techniques," priced at 40 catastrophe coins; if it were a skill book, it would be 8,000. This showed how sought-after equipment that could directly boost combat power was. In contrast, auxiliary skills friendly to newcomers like meditation were truly cheap.

With only 6 catastrophe coins left in his pocket, Lin Bo felt a sense of relief—a "money spent, heart at ease" kind of feeling. Flipping through the paper manual, he discarded most of the piloting techniques that were meaningless to him. The remaining usable content was actually quite limited.

Even so, these techniques, based entirely on three-dimensional space combat, opened Lin Bo's eyes. This was not something he could have summarized just by practicing and thinking on his own.

This Frost-Sky style had been compiled through extensive computer simulations and combat screening, gathering the flashes of brilliance from countless pilots in desperate situations. It emphasized suppression in air-to-air and air-to-ground combat; when attacking, it felt like frost winds filling the sky, leaving no gap untouched.

The technique prioritized cold, crisp, and nimble movements, often using spears, lances, halberds, or long-handled blades as primary weapons. It sought every opening, forced enemies to defend, and, combined with the real-time calculations of onboard AIs, allowed the pilot to dodge enemy attacks like a flying feather or a swimming fish. It demanded extremely high mobility.

Pilots using the Frost-Sky style would equip their mechas with numerous vector thrusters, but Lin Bo lacked those conditions and could only forcibly simulate the effects using True Word Mastery.

Thanks to the powerful effects of True Word Mastery, after a few practice sessions, Lin Bo could replicate the mecha tactical movements almost perfectly. It was indistinguishable from the technical points described in the manual, achieving the high state of "man-machine unity" that many pilots pursued their entire lives.

However, some overly extreme high-speed maneuvers still placed a huge burden on his body. Sudden acceleration could cause brain ischemia, fainting, and damage to internal organs.

The Frost-Sky style consisted of forty-four set routines; Lin Bo could currently withstand the first fourteen, and only seven could be effectively utilized in actual combat. But this was already more than enough.

"(Word of Power) Copper Moon." Lin Bo leaped into the air, gliding forward like a falcon spreading its wings.

The rotating rubber target swept its weapon crossbar toward the mage. The flying shadow in the air floated slightly like a feather caught in a breeze, his waist and abdomen dodging the end of the crossbar.

The black silhouette closed in to within inches, suddenly diving like a fish to evade the "gaze," then winding around the target like a snake. As he brushed past, he thrust his short spear backward. The motion seemed light, as if effortless, yet the spearhead was deeply embedded into the target’s body.

The heavy target jumped and vibrated as if hit by an explosion, stumbling twice before steadying itself, the short spear still trembling.

From the mobility to the force application, the techniques simulated by True Word Mastery already possessed some of the flavor of the original Frost-Sky style.

Regarding tomorrow's dungeon exploration, Lin Bo felt no more anxiety.